Spare The Rod
by J.A. Carlton
Summary: WeeChesters! Hurt!Dean - Adventures with Miss McKetridge. Warverse compliant.
1. Chapter 1

Spare The Rod – SN WeeChester fic.

by: sifi.

Disclaimed? – Yep.

Loved? – I am constant.

--

Glenwood, Arkansas – 1987, near the Caddo Gap.

"C'mon Sam let's go," Dean wiggled his fingers but didn't move into Miss Andrea's house.

"Can I stay just a little more Dean? We were just gonna..."

"No," came his flat reply, something in his voice, or rather NOT in his voice drawing Sam's attention away from the lines of toy soldiers on the linoleum.

_Dad's probably mad again..._ he leaped to his feet, crossed half the room then turned and waved, "By Stevie, see you tomorrow. Thank's for looking after me Miss Andrea," then turned back and ran to Dean, not stopping quite right and stumbling into his big brother.

"Are you sick?" Sam asked watching the color wash out of Dean's face as he grasped the smaller hand into his own and turned them toward the sidewalk, his face kinda white and greasy looking.

"You stepped on my foot," he answered colorlessly while guiding Sam down the street.

"Well maybe your feet shouldn't be so big then I won't step on 'em so much," he joked looking up to see if Dean was gonna play today. When he didn't, Sam frowned. "Is dad mad again?"

"Wasn't home when I got there," his words and voice were clipped in a way that Sam wasn't familiar with, yet.

"You look bad Dean... you look like you're gonna throw up..."

Then like magic the older brother pitched to his knees on the grass, his back arching as his stomach contents tried to spill out. "Don't look Sammy..." he huffed almost inaudibly.

"Should I go get Miss Andrea?" he offered softly.

"No!" what should have come out as a bark fell into the air as little more than a faint grunt.

When he was fairly certain he was done trying to upchuck for the moment he sat shakily back on his heels, breathing through his mouth and wiping his face with hands that trembled like an old mans.

Sam felt his mouth turn down, _this isn't good._ Tentatively he stepped forward until he was at his brothers' side then patted him on the back, "You okay now?" he asked removing his hand after Dean pulled away.

The older brother nodded his head, biting his lower lip as he pushed himself weakly and wearily to his feet, "Thanks."

Once inside the apartment Dean locked the door while Sam raced ahead and turned on the lights and TV.

He shambled to the kitchen and pulled down a packet of pop tarts from the cabinet then handed them to Sam, "You can have what's left of the milk," he headed toward the bedroom, "If dad comes home tonight and asks, tell him I got the pukies and went to bed."

Sam watched holding the packet, his expression puzzled as Dean lurched to the doorjamb and clung to it, "You want soup? You always make me soup when I got a sad tummy..."

"No. Stay away from the stove, remember the rules about the phone and the door and if you have to... wake me up."

Sam nodded silently watching his big brother crawl on all fours onto the bed, fully dressed and simply collapse, _Wow... you must got a really sad tummy..._ he thought and retreated into the world of the Autobots and Decepticons.

Sam couldn't have said what it was that drew his attention to the door, it could've been something as minor as a shadow passing under the crack, but it was something he wasn't used to seeing. His eyes burst wide and his mouth fell open, _Salt! _He realized, _Dean didn't fix the line! Ooooh that'll make dad mad for sure! _So in the middle of GI Joe he filled the scooper from the bag of road salt at the side of the couch and made sure to fill up any holes they might have made in the line following the swing of the door, then double checked all three windows.

At the window in the bedroom he looked over his shoulder as Dean made a strange noise, kind of a high pitched, not quite grunting sound Sam hadn't heard from him before. His brows furrowed and he carefully cupped the scooper in his hands as he tip toed to the side of the bed and turned his head to get a better look at his big brothers' face.

There was something tight in his expression though he was definitely out cold. _He looks like he does when he eats too many gummi bears..._ He backed away as Dean's body started to move just a little, which made another sound come from the back of his throat, _That's a uh-oh sound...Dean's got a uh-oh?_ He wondered as his big brother started to move, making heavy, gasping noises now before he simply stopped and soft snores filled the air. _Are you okay Dean? You don't sound good..._ he looked at the scoop in his hands and returned to the living room dumping the rest of it back into the bag.

Distracted easily, he wondered not for the first time why dad wanted salt at anything that opened. It wasn't something Sam usually wondered about, but it did cross his mind occasionally as he watched Dean work through wherever they were staying to make sure everything was as dad demanded. For the moment, he was just glad he knew Dean's chores well enough to be able to help. Besides, Dean didn't need dad yelling at him for something he always did right except for just this once. Dad didn't know much about how good Dean did every day and Sam thought maybe he didn't really care either, he only ever seemed to have eyes for mistakes, not for good things.

_I don't wanna think about it,_ he dumped the rest of the salt back into the bag and jumped back on the couch, munching on his pop tarts and eyeing the bag of potato chips on the counter.

--

"You feel better today?" Sam whispered after Dean emerged from the bathroom still wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

Dean nodded though still seemed subdued even as he swiped his mitt through Sammy's unruly waves, "Yeah... little stiff is all," he nodded eyeing their father sprawled haphazardly on the couch, a half full bottle of whiskey and several empty beer cans on the coffee table. Loud gravelly snores tumbled through the air threatening to make the boys laugh, "When'd dad get home?" he asked.

Sam shrugged, "Sometime I guess... he wasn't here when I went to sleep."

Dean grabbed John's jacket from the kitchen chair and dug into the inner pocket for his wallet, where he took two singles then put the wallet back. Before he could ask Sam handed over a piece of paper and a pen.

'Dad, took $2 for milk.

Love Sammy and Dean.'

He wrote, leaving the note under the jar of instant coffee John would need to start his day.

"C'mon runt, let's go," Dean directed his little brother out into the sun shiny world that couldn't bring warmth to the oldest Winchester.

At Miss Andrea's house Sam turned wrapping his arms around his big brother, just like he always did. This time though as he squeezed his hardest, trying to make Dean see how strong he was getting, he felt his brother grunt and hold his breath while his hand patted Sammy's head instead of returning the squeeze until the younger boy cried, 'uncle!'.

"Boy you're gettin' strong..." he said, again something seemed to be missing from his voice.

--

Dean leaned against the bike rack, his heart racing in his chest as he watched the other children congregating around the doors. His mouth turned dry and sour and again he felt just a little sick to his stomach. Today though he didn't make the mistake of eating breakfast, today if he got sick...

"Are you okay today?" Cheryl Grayson asked timidly while holding her folders tightly to her chest.

Dean nodded, "Yeah."

"Just be good today okay Dean?"

_I got a feeling it doesn't matter what I do anymore, _he nodded, "I will."

"You didn't tell anyone did you?" she asked in a whisper.

Dean shook his head.

The cute little blonde with the curly pigtails nodded and sighed, blowing her bangs out of her eyes, "That's good cause that only makes it worse!"

John's eldest boy shot her a questioning look, "It can get worse... by lots and lots..." she assured him with wide scared eye.

_Well I don't know how, but I DO believe you..._ Dean thought as the children fell into two lines, waiting for the doors to open.

"C'mon you don't wanna be the last one there..." Cheryl grabbed his hand and pulled him from the bike rack heedless of the grimace of pain that crossed his face with the sudden movement.

_I don't wanna go in there, I don't wanna be here... I... I'm... will it make me bad if I say it in my own head? _He wondered, _I'm scared. But I gotta suck it up like dad says... I gotta be a man and just do what a man's gotta do... that means not making trouble for dad. He's... I wonder if he's gonna be home today? I wonder if he found what he was looking for yet..._ he let his mind drift along this train of thought while his body moved with the rest of the third graders into the school, and down the hall, children splitting off into their respective class rooms, rushing along, smiling, laughing and happy with friends beside them. Except him. Even Cheryl had gone off to talk with Lucy.

_Dad's gonna find this thing and he's gonna put it down, and we're gonna move on to another place then I can forget about all of this. _He leaned against the wall waiting for the bulk of his classmates to arrive, _What if I just ran away? No! That's selfish! That would get dad in trouble and maybe get us taken away from him, we have to be careful! _ He sighed hopelessly, feeling a crushing weight in his chest that had little to do with the soreness that racked his body as he shuffled into the classroom and moved directly to his chair where he sat up straight with eyes flitting between the blackboard which had today's reading assignment written in the corner; to the banners that screamed for attention.

Directly above the board itself was Miss McKetridge's favorite saying, "Spare The Rod, Spoil The Child!" To the left of that was another that proclaimed, "Children should be seen and NOT HEARD!" And finally on the right, "SILENCE is GOLDEN!" in huge gold colored capitol letters.

Each saying drew his gaze around the room, as they were meant to, to the next. Directly above the coat rack, "Idle hands are the Devil's Workshop!" then over into the far corner. A 5 x 5 section of the room was cordoned off with a miniature white picket fence around a filthy rug that looked like it'd been smeared in mud puddles, and on the wall above the bright red words "PIG PEN" was another phrase, "Cleanliness is next to Godliness!"

His gaze slid to the far wall where instead of the brightly colored bulletin boards that graced other classrooms, heralding the accomplishments of students and the completion of class projects, moments to commemorate the learning, companionship and achievements of the school year, there were three boards, each one had a famous monkey and corresponding saying above it made from black construction paper, "Hear No Evil!" and the bulletin board below it was labeled, "Ignorant". The center one, "See No Evil!" with its bulletin board labeled, "Cheaters". And the last one, "Speak No Evil!" with its board labeled, "LIARS!" only this one instead of being a plain board was actually outlined with red and white construction paper cut out to look like the Devil, with horns and fangs and a forked black tongue, and the ones Miss McKetridge labeled Liars went into the Devil's mouth.

Dean knew his name was up on the Ignorant board at least four, maybe five times since he and Sam had gotten here two weeks ago. Miss McKetridge said it was because he was a bad listener who didn't know how to give proper attention to his betters. She said his mind wandered and though she gave him what she called 'ample' opportunity to 'shape up' during his first week in class, he was proving to be quite a disappointment. Still, she promised him as recently as yesterday to make fixing him her mission.

_Please don't let her be here today, please don't let her be here today... please let her be sick or moved or... I don't care... just please let us have a substitute today... _Dean prayed fervently as the bane of his third grade existence entered the room, closing the door firmly behind her and without so much as a glance at the class picked up her attendance book and began reading names.

Twice the students weren't quick enough to answer, "Present" as she called roll, so they were marked absent.

"Dean Webster?" She called.

"Here," popped out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Miss McKetridge sighed and shook her head, "Present Mr. Webster... Present... HERE is what you say when you hand something to someone is that CLEAR?" she asked moving toward the Ignorant board where she once more, inked his name.

"Yes ma'am," he mumbled into his chest.

"What was that?" she asked bitingly, slapping a thick wooden ruler against her hand.

"Yes ma'am," he said more firmly, his eyes glued to that hard piece of wood.

"One more time Mister Webster and you'll be writing that sentence one hundred times is that clear?" she towered over him, only her eyes angled downward.

"Yes ma'am," he nodded then turned his eyes to the front of the classroom in the hopes that she too would go that way.

As she stood over him, her nose wrinkled and she frowned. Dean swallowed hard and tried not to look at her but couldn't help it.

"Mister Webster are those the same clothes you had on yesterday?" she asked.

"Yes ma'am," he breathed.

"Did you at least bathe you filthy little piggy? Or do you just enjoy rolling around in your own filth?" she sneered.

"No ma'am," he shook his head feeling his tummy starting to act up again.

"No ma'am what? No you didn't bathe?" she asked.

Dean shook his head grateful that none of the other kids were snickering, each one of them knowing only too well that next time it could be them that she was picking on.

"No ma'am," he shook his head again.

"And why not? Too busy rolling around in your own filth were you?" she asked archly, her lips pinched tight on her face while her eyebrows spiked into her hairline.

"No ma'am," he shook his head again, "I went home and went to bed."

"You what?" she gasped.

"I went home and went to bed," he repeated.

"In the same clothes you are NOW wearing?" she asked, her voice dripping with icicles.

"Yes ma'am," he nodded not quite sure what the problem was, but definitely knowing there was one.

Her fingers clamped hard and icy on the back of his neck, just at the base of his skull as she lifted him out of his seat, almost slinging him around to the back of the classroom where she pointed above the pig pen, "What does that say Mr. Webster? Or are you too stupid to read it?"

_Ow, ow, ow... you're hurting me!_ he wanted to cry out as her fingers pinched halfway round his throat, making little polka dots dance in his eyes as his head grew fuzzy, "I'm not stupid..." he muttered.

"What did you say?" she grabbed a handful of his hair and jerked his head round to face her, "Did you just backsass me Mr. Webster?!" her eyes seemed to glint fury.

"No ma'am... I just said I'm not stupid," he gasped feeling his heart beating in his throat as the world grew fuzzy edges.

"Then you read that aloud for everyone to hear!" she demanded pointing at the saying.

"Cleanliness is next to Godliness..." he complied.

"We have a LOT of work to do with you Mr. Webster..." she snarled shoving him into the pig pen where he landed on his side, gasping for breath in the middle of the filthy carpet. "You know the rules, if you land in the pig pen then you are pig for the day," she pointed to the pink felt ears and rubber nose that hung on a peg on the wall, "Put them on."

With mist filled eyes he did as instructed then sat cross legged in the middle of the rug.

"Alright children line up..." Miss McKetridge pointed to the rear counter where they hastened to do as instructed.

She returned to the pig pen and looked down into those misty crystalline eyes, "On all fours piggy Webster... swine don't sit Indian style."

Doing as instructed Dean could have sworn he saw genuine happiness in the smile that sat upon her features as she wielded her authority with cruelty.

"Maybe if we all help, then by the time recess comes around little piggy Webster might be clean enough to go play..." she directed the children one by one to the pig pen where they were encouraged to oink, squeal and spit on the boy in the funny ears and rubber nose.

_It'll be over soon,_ Dean closed his eyes, lowered himself to the filthy carpet and pretended no one could see his tears.

--

tbc.

please R&R.

thanks.

sifi.


	2. Chapter 2

Spare The Rod – chpt 2

by: sifi.

--

"Go 'way runt," Dean said.

_It's his voice but it's still not right... _"Why?" he asked.

"Cause I said so," Dean returned without even looking up from the end of chapter problems that were his homework.

"What if I say, 'No'?" Sam asked leaning over his bowl of Spaghettios and lowering his face toward it, his lips sticking out as far as they could go to see if he could vacuum up the little round pasta bits while ignoring the spoon that sat waiting patiently to be used.

Wordlessly Dean picked up his homework and went into the bedroom closing the door behind him.

He hung his head as the door opened and his little brother climbed up onto the bed, then climbed up onto him, his pointy little knee hitting a bruise that hadn't started to clear up just yet.

"Ow! Son of a _bitch_ Sam! That HURT!" he cried wondering if the pain that shot from the back of his hips through to his belly button was what it felt like to get stabbed. He rolled as his back bowed and the breath stole out of his lungs and before he knew it Sammy was on the floor looking up at him with big watery blue eyes and quivering lips.

"Sorry Dean..." the littlest Winchester breathed tremulously.

"Just leave me alone willlya?" Dean groaned, letting his head fall onto his history book while he gingerly rubbed the almost finally purple spot on his back from the heel of Miss McKetridge's shoe.

"I said I'm _sorry_ Dean..." Sam got up and tried to approach the bed, "You used to be fun! But you're not anymore! You're just a big fat jerk and I'm not covering your chores anymore when you come home and go to sleep! And dad can go ahead and get mad at your for not doing YOUR JOB!"

"Sam..." Dean started but Sam stormed out of the room slamming the door behind him.

"Maybe it's better this way Sammy... then you won't end up like me," Dean sniffed then laid his head down on his book while sleep took him away.

--

"Where's your brother?" John asked setting the giant pizza down on the kitchen table while Sam manhandled the six pack of soda onto the counter, the congealing bowl of spaghettios forgotten on the coffee table.

"Sleeping..." he spat, "Again!"

John frowned, his eyes moving to the clock on the wall, _it's not even six yet_.

"Alright Sammy... what's going on between you two?" he asked.

He wasn't sure when it started, but he was fairly sure it'd been going on for at least a week. Dean was pushing Sam away which was strange enough on its own but every night, again, at least for the last week, when he got back to the apartment after his shift at the gas station, he'd find his eldest already in bed and his youngest up and watching TV.

"Dean's being a JERK all he wants to do is take baths and sleep and make sure his homework is done... he won't play with me anymore... and sometimes at Miss Andrea's he used to come in and watch cartoons while me and Stevie finished playing but now he won't even do that anymore!" he frowned, "and... I... I just wanted him to play with me..." he said with his mouth quivering as he remembered the twist of deep pain on his brothers' face when he looked up from the floor, "...and I said I was sorry but he just told me to leave him alone so that's what I'm doing!"

"Tell me about what happens when Dean picks you up from Miss Andreas," John invited while folding the top of the box under the pizza.

"Should I go get Dean?" Sam asked excitedly, "Sausage is his favorite...OOOOH there's pupproni too! How'd you do that?"

"I asked for it specially for us... just the way we all like it," John smiled rubbing his boys' hair before turning serious again, "Is Dean sleeping?"

Sam shrugged, "Maybe, maybe doin' homework, I don't care cause he told me to go away and I'm gonna do just what he says and I won't talk to him or anything then he'll be lonely and want to play with me again," he explained while piling several pieces of sausage pizza onto a paper towel before heading to the bedroom balancing the load carefully. "Ooooh soda!" he turned around putting the pizza down.

John watched, never ceasing to be amused by his littlest one as Sam laid a can of coke into a pouch he made of his shirt, then put the pizza slices on top of that and headed for the bedroom again.

"Dean! Dad brought us pizza! Just the way we ALL like!"

John chuckled at the boys' easy and forgiving nature. Rolling a slice up for himself he followed his little one to the bedroom to peek in on his oldest.

At the doorway he watched Sam carefully set the paper towel on the bed, right in front of Dean's face, then lay the can of soda by his hand before yanking and pulling on the blankets so he could lay them over his big brother.

He smiled and shook his head as his little one leaned in and kissed his big brothers' forehead, "Big jerk," he grumbled then skipped to the wall, turned off the light and closed the door.

"Okay Sammy, what's goin' on? Why is Dean sleeping so much do you think?" John asked.

"He had a sad tummy... but that was a long time ago," Sam shrugged, "He just wants to sleep and take baths and showers all the time but that's good cause Dean gets stinky fast..."

"How's school going for him?" John asked knowing full well that Dean was NEVER one to do homework if he could skate by without it. The kid had too much else to focus on, and when it came to studying he had a mind of his own, he'd study what he wanted, when he wanted it. In that way, Dean was very much like his father.

Sam shrugged swirling a long string of melted cheese around his finger, "I dunno."

John frowned, "Alright, listen kiddo... I got a trip I gotta go on this weekend, I'm leaving in the morning and should be back either late Sunday or by the time you get home on Monday. That gives you two school days, and two weekend days... I want you to do me a favor, find out if there's something bothering your brother okay?" _He's only eight... what kind of problems does an eight year old kid have besides school... man don't tell me he's gonna need a tutor or something... _he sighed inside and ruffed Sammy's mop again. "Can you do that?"

"Sure dad," he nodded flashing a glimpse of the dimples John seemed to have handed directly to him.

"Good man... I'll expect a full report on Monday."

"Sir yes sir!" Sam grinned pinching the toppings off another slice of pizza and stuffing it into his mouth.

--

"Dean hurry up! I gotta go!" Sam called urgently noting that dad hadn't even cleaned up his mess from last night before taking off this morning.

"Tie it off runt..." his big brother groaned listlessly through the door.

"I just gotta wee! I'll do it in the bathtub!"

Before his brother could protest again he turned the knob and lurched into the room, sliding quickly behind the shower curtain despite the fact that Dean wasn't using the toilet.

"Geez Sammy! Can't a guy have some privacy?" Dean growled, and for the first time in just over a month there was color in his voice.

"I told you I had to go!" Sam leaned forward and looked out into the room catching a glimpse of a deep purple bruise the size of a baseball just over the waistband of Dean's jeans, "Wow that's a bad one!" he breathed, "Did I do that?" he asked stepping out of the bathtub and heading for the sink.

"What?" Dean asked.

"Your uh oh, did I make that yesterday when I climbed on you?" he asked.

"It was there already," Dean shook his head, "You just hit it is all..."

"Does it hurt still?" Sam's face opened in wonder.

"Only when there's a runt's knee stuck in it," Dean shrugged.

"Where'd you get it?"

Dean shrugged but said nothing.

"Is that why you change in here now? Cause you didn't want me to see it?" Sam asked.

"Mmm hmm, that's why," Dean nodded.

--

"I have had ENOUGH of your sassy mouth mister! Now GET in there!" she screeched as she practically threw the young Winchester into the bathroom, the thick, springy wooden pointer stick slapping against her thigh as she stalked into the room behind him.

Without so much as a backward glance at the entirety of the class, who sat there with their mouths hanging open, a few of them already crying, she slammed the door.

"Now it's time you learn to show me a little respect!" she nearly howled, a rage like none of them had ever seen or heard before, obvious to even the most sheltered ear.

Freddie Martinez sat in the desk behind Dean's. He looked around, his eyes moving over those of his classmates, to the door, this 'golden opportunity' blatantly obvious to them all.

No one heard what the insane little boy named Dean Webster said, but they sure knew it made Miss McKetridge really really mad!

After everything he'd been forced to endure day in and day out for almost an entire month now, they were all sure that he would have learned his lesson and simply did nothing unless instructed to, school only lasted all day and all they had to do was get past third grade, when they got to the fourth grade they wouldn't have to deal with her anymore and it would be the next class's problem.

The air split with a sharp "_CRACK_!" followed by a 'yip' of surprise, then another "_CRACK_!" and nothing.

"Go!" Cheryl mouthed to Freddie, who looked at his classmates again, more of them nodding agreement with her than not. After all, if Dean hadn't turned around to lend the boy a pencil he never would have opened his mouth and gotten in trouble. Freddie should have known better than to be without a pencil on test day.

"Say you're sorry!" they heard her order from within the bathroom as Freddie slowly turned the knob and slid out into the hall where he took off at a dead run toward the principal's office.

"I said you say you're sorry..."

No one was sure he even said anything but there certainly came another "_CRACK_!"

Several more times that horrible whip-like "_CRACK!"_ broke through the door that kept the young and recently silenced boy out of sight.

Young eyes jostled nervously from the bathroom door to the classroom door, waiting with shallow breaths for Freddie to return with an adult in tow, waiting for someone to finally catch the woman in the act. Each one of them grateful that they were NOT the one she was beating up, just in case whatever adult Freddie brought back didn't believe THEM and believed HER instead.

"Why you smart mouthed little bastard! Stupid little boy like you must be a product of inferior breeding! Probably got a halfwit for a daddy and some pigeon toed, cross eyed, toothless witch for a momma don't cha boy? Don't cha?!" she screamed before another "_CRACK_!" echoed.

By now there wasn't a dry eye in the classroom, even the boys were wiping their eyes and sniffling at the sound of that heavy old pointer smacking God only knew what, and they all hoped it was only his butt! Not a single one of them wanted to see her step on him again, and most of them were pretty sure that as they were lining up for the fire drill last Friday, Miss McKetridge pushed Dean so he stumbled and fell, and after what she'd done to him all that week, it was a miracle he could walk at all and wasn't squished like a bug. But they were sure she pushed him until he fell, and then stepped on him with her high boots until he couldn't help but scream.

She'd picked him up and sat him at his desk, "Well if you weren't so clumsy and lazy I might not have had to trip on you."

Then she'd made him stay inside, "You sit at your desk and think about what you've done! If this had been a real fire you'd be all burned up! And you'd deserve it!"

After that, Dean had simply stopped trying anything at all. He couldn't even bring himself to talk to Cheryl anymore, or Freddie or Dave or Nick or Lisa, or anyone.

Freddie was running down the hall with Mrs. Humphris in tow and a finger over his mouth as he led her into the classroom where she stopped, stunned to see so many tearful faces all making the "Shhh" sign.

Her head cocked to the side as she heard it, "_CRACK_!"

"Now you repeat after me! I am worthless!" "_CRACK_!"

"I am NOTHING!" "_CRACK_!"

"I am NO ONE!" "_CRACK_!"

Mrs. Humphris' face turned Christmas red as her mouth disappeared and she stalked to the bathroom door whipping it open.

"Miss McKetr..." her fury died on her lips, "My God what have you done?"

"Freddie Martinez!" she called from the bathroom, "Go get the nurse and Mr. Lawrence, NOW! You! Step away from that boy but don't you dare leave my sight!"

Outside the bathroom several of the children had dared to leave their chairs and were edging forward to see what they could, to see Miss McKetridge get in trouble for once. Her eyes flicked from the doorjamb out into the classroom and she shrieked, "BACK IN YOUR SEATS!"

Chairs and even a few desks scraped the floor as the children hastened to comply, uncertain what would come next or from whose hand.

"I have to son..."

A tiny mewling, "Nooooo," was the only sound anyone was certain came from Dean.

"That child doesn't need mollycoddling! What he needs is a stern hand!"

Those who had the vantage would later swear that when Mrs. Humphris reached out and grasped Miss McKetridge by the shirtfront that her hand had blood all over it.

--

Dean pulled himself up Miss Andrea's stairs, so close to collapsing, just as much with relief as with pain and exhaustion. That Mr. Lawrence, Nurse Gamble, and Mrs. Humphris had let him leave the school at all, let alone on his own power and without an adult picking him up was nothing short of a miracle. It had only taken a promise to have his dad call the principal when he got home from work tomorrow, which Dean would of course, come Monday say he simply forgot. Maybe by then he'd have a plan to keep the trouble out of John's ears.

"Sam, c'mon," he grunted wearily, content to just lean on the porch railing for the rest of forever as long as it meant he didn't have to sit down, lay down or touch anything with any part of his back or bottom.

"Hi Dean..." Miss Andrea greeted cheerfully holding the door open for Sam who stopped short, his playful gamboling done as if someone had thrown a switch, and from the look on Dean's pasty, sweating face, and those deep blue sacks beneath his eyes she felt herself frown.

Dean nodded, "What'd you do today runt?" he asked tightly.

"Dean?" Miss Andrea leaped down the porch steps so she was in front of him, "Honey are you okay? You really don't look very well at all..."

Dean nodded stiffly, "...sad tummy..."

"AGAIN!" Sam huffed, "Why'd you get another one?" then turned his gaze on Miss Andrea, "He'll take a bath and go to bed, he does that all the time."

"Bad milk," he muttered cracking as reassuring a smile as he could muster while maneuvering Sam away from the well meaning woman.

"Bye Miss Andrea! See you tomorrow..." Sam waved until she was back inside. As he turned, his feet got tangled and he careened into his big brother who stumbled but managed to catch him. "Sorry..." he grinned then felt it falter when he saw the pain that crossed his brother's face again. "Did I hit your bruise?" he asked.

Biting hard on his lower lip Dean nodded and ruffed the kid's hair, "S'okay," he choked.

--

"Eeeew you're gonna take a bath where I peed this morning..." Sam snickered then climbed off the potty while Dean ran the water in the bathtub.

"Make sure the door's locked and the drapes are closed Sam. Remember the phone and door rules..." he stoppered the tub and let the water run clear.

"I know I know...aren't you gonna make bubbles? You like bubbles..." Sam frowned.

"No bubbles tonight..." he shook his head as steam rose into the air.

"That's gonna be too hot, you're gonna get all red like in the summer when you get sunbirdn't," Sam warned.

"Sunburnt, now out...Less you wanna watch me take a bath..." the oldest Winchester ordered pointing to the door.

"You're gross..." Sam squinched up his face and left his big brother alone.

Even with the TV on Sam could hear tight little noises coming from the bathroom, and he wasn't sure but he thought he might've even heard a sniffle and a sob in there somewhere. _Man that bruise gotta hurt if it's making him sniffle... _he thought leaning toward the door, wanting to ask if Dean was okay, but not sure if he should, he didn't want Dean to be mad at him for asking dumb questions.

"Aahh shit..." he heard through the door and felt his mouth drop open while his hand covered it, _That's a BAD WORD!_

There were grunts and groans and whimpers that his big brother tried to hold back, and he was pretty sure that there was some crying happening too, and Sam found himself wondering, _Maybe there's more than one uh oh... sounds like a whole real lots of 'em. _

A burst of riotous laughter drew his attention to the TV, and with cold pizza in hand, Sam shimmied onto the couch and sat back wondering what was so funny about a bunch of people who sat in a bar all the time.

Dean pushed himself to his feet as the water swirled down the drain, he'd spent too long in there, turning gingerly from one side to the next, trying to keep the pressure off his back and rear and what little strength he'd had upon reaching the apartment seemed to have also fled down the drain. _Damn,_ he cursed tucking the end of the towel around his hips while looking at the pile of clothes on the bathroom floor. He knew the shirt and seat of his pants were stiff with blood and he thanked whatever God there was that his jacket was knee length and had hidden everything from Sammy.

"Sam... get me my sweats and a t-shirt will ya?" he wasn't sure how loudly he'd asked or whether the runt could hear him over the TV and through the closed door, but there was no way he could get back into those stiff sticky clothes that had strings and strands of his skin embedded into the fibers.

"Sammy?" he called reaching for the counter as he stepped one foot out of the tub, the other foot caught on the rim and without a thought, he was down and out cold.

"'Kay Dean... here you go..." Sam opened the door, barely peeking with one eye to make sure he wasn't gonna get what Dean would call a "Full Moon" right in his face. "Dean!" he gasped dropping the clothes and skidding to his knees on the wet floor, his heart thundering and his tummy feeling sick when he saw the criss-crossed bloody splits of skin on his big brothers' back.

"Dean!" he threw himself backward as a small river of red ran from the older boys' forehead right toward him. "Dean! Say something!" he half screamed and pushed against his brothers' head, hoping he was faking.

--

_It shouldn't be day time, it should be night, I feel like it's night..._ he thought as light filtered through his eyelid and eventually forced him to open his eyes.

The first thing he saw was Sammy sitting on his bed with his knees in his chest and tear streaks down his face with his thumb perched tightly in his mouth. _You quit suckin' your thumb last year kiddo, what's up?_

"...ah 'appen?" he grunted realizing he was on his stomach and his back was cold.

"Just lay still honey," Miss Andrea advised softly.

"Sam?" he asked letting his head rest on the pillow, "Sammy you okay? Whassa matter?"

"What's the matter!?" Sam yelled jumping off the bed, swiping his tears angrily away and leaning over Dean's puzzled face, "You big stupid doofus head! You _lied_ to me and you made me scared and there was blood and you got really bad uh oh's and you're s'posed t'TELL when you got uh oh's! You're s'posed t'..." his breath stopped, Dean figured it might be sitting sideways in his throat, "You're not s'sposed t' just..." his voice cracked and he balled his fist angrily in front of his brothers face, "If you din't already have a mess of uh oh's I'd punch you! You big stupidhead!"

Dean watched the tears fall down his brothers face non-plussed by his anger, but his heart squeezing hard with every shimmery drop down those dimple filled cheeks, "I didn't want you to be scared runt..." he reached out but Sam turned away with a grunt and ran out into the living room where moments later Dean and Miss Andrea could both hear him sobbing.

"You had him scared silly Dean..." Miss Andrea softly stroked the boys' hair with one hand while her other daubed at his broken and bloody skin.

"Just spent too long in the tub... got weak..." Dean explained tremulously, then bit hard on his lower lip, "Go make sure he's okay? Please?"

She leaned to the side watching the little boy wipe away the tears from his face, "What happened Dean? Who did this to you?" she asked softly and leaned forward, "Are you and Sammy in trouble here?" she asked before the little guy made it back to wall outside the bedroom.

"Miss Andrea, you have to promise me... you can't tell our dad about this..." he pushed himself up until he was sitting. Blushing madly he clasped the towel together over himself.

"Dean if someone is hurting you, your father needs to know. I understand he's out of town picking up some scrap for the shop right?"

Slowly Dean nodded remembering that Dad would have worked hard to lay his story with the adult who watched over Sam.

"Honey, your daddy would never forgive himself or anyone else who tried to keep the truth from him about someone who'd hurt one of his children..."

"But it's over and done with... and it'll be finished...and then we'll leave, we always leave and it'll be okay cause then there'll be someplace new where none of this will have happened..." he explained in a gush as Sam peered around the door frame.

"Sammy?" Dean sniffed and for some reason felt rivers of tears flowing down his face, "Please?" he asked holding his arms open.

He gasped a grateful smile as his baby brother dashed into the room and leaped onto the bed, crawling into Dean's lap, wrapping himself around his big brother while he laid his head in the crook of his neck, "Don't you _ever_ lie to me again you big boogerhead!"

"I promise," Dean sighed holding his little boy tight.

--

tbc.

Please R&R.

Thanks.

sifi.


	3. Chapter 3

Spare the Rod - EPILOGUE

"Please come in John," Miss Andrea opened the door for the nervous looking man.

"What's the matter with my boy? Bobby said you told him it was an emergency?" he scanned the front room of the woman's house noting the comfortable and well worn furniture, obviously used and abused by happy children. _Our place would have looked like this by now... _he took a shaky breath and forced dry the mist that wanted to cover his eyes, "Where are they?" he asked looking up the stairwell.

"They're upstairs sleeping... please, I'll take you to them in a minute okay?"

There was something in her voice, the same kind of something that Mary had that would make sure he kept his calm while she prepared to share with him whatever news was coming, be it good or bad. _That's probably why I trust her with Sammy..._ he acknowledged wondering how she'd had the audacity to take his boys from their apartment, but again, looking around he recognized the signs. From the not just decorative silver star that hung in the front window, to the goldenseal, rosemary and burdock planted along the walkway, all things used to confuse, confound or deter evil spirits.

He suffered himself to be led into the kitchen where she poured a cup of coffee for them both.

"I lied to your boys. I promised them I wouldn't tell you, but only because it nearly drove Dean to hysterics until I did, and I don't think you should expect to hear it from Sam either. Dean made him pinkie swear not to tell you," she started.

_Pinkie swear? That's the ultimate in the world of kids... _"Not to tell me what!?" he demanded quietly feeling his heart race and his palms grow sweaty.

Slowly, carefully she began to tell the anxious man in front of her everything she'd been able to draw from his oldest boy. He hadn't wanted to tell her in front of Sam so he'd waited until Sam swore to stay in the living room until he was done, and to never, ever tell their dad about it. After she'd gotten everything she knew she was going to get from the boy himself, (though she knew for certain there were things he was still holding back), she'd called the school principal, convincing him to give her the rest of the details since the boys had been left in her care over the weekend while Mr. Webster was out of town.

When she was done, John pressed his handkerchief into her hand, both of their eyes tearing, hers overflowing and his threatening to. Trembling he whispered, "Do they need me to press charges?"

Miss Andrea shook her head, "No, the school board has the power to do that independently, now if you want to file charges on your own and stuff like that, then I'm sure you'll actually be encouraged to do so... Principal Lawrence told me Nurse Gamble took plenty of pictures of all of his wounds, the old ones included..."

"Old ones..." John breathed and wanted to scream, _Why didn't he tell me!? All that sleeping? All those baths... oh my GOD it all makes sense now, why didn't I see? _

Slowly she nodded, "Apparently this has been going on for about a month now... Dean swore that today was the worst, but he's got some pretty hefty bruises John..." she stopped, her eyes peering deep into his.

"Wh..." he cleared his throat knowing there was something else coming and wondering if he had the strength to hear it, "What?" he asked.

"From the depth and duration of some of them, and some of the places, it's possible there might have even been some fracturing involved," she nearly whispered.

"Fractures?" he breathed feeling the world spin fuzzily around his head. He bit his lips tightly together to keep his fathers' rage inside.

She nodded, "_MAYBE._ Either way, the ribs are such a vascular set of bones that if there had been anything like that, it's almost certainly healed by now, at least Nurse Gamble seemed pretty sure," she sighed and reached across the table, laying her hand gently atop his as his fingers clutched and wove together, trying to keep them from trembling.

_I think I'm gonna throw up... my boy... my sweet baby boy..._ deep inside his stomach tossed and turned, filling with heat and bile.

Miss Andrea squeezed his hands, "I mean this woman... what she did is just evil!" she noted the man's eyes flicking around the room, lighting on various items and she KNEW he knew what they were for. "I don't know what kind of evil, but it doesn't really matter now does it? Not when it comes to kids," she sighed and rose.

"C'mon let's take you to your boys," she motioned him up from the chair, "I gave Dean an antihistamine, it conked him right out, but it'll give you a chance to look him over without him knowing," she explained, "I'm not in the habit of making then breaking promises, especially not to children."

Wordless John nodded. To his surprise she turned on the bedroom light, seeming to know that very little would wake Sam once he was out.

He smiled at the sight of his little one camping out on the floor, and sat gingerly on the edge of the bed.

The first thing he noticed was the small split in his boys' forehead. "Oh God..." he whispered shakily, pressing his lips first to his finger, then his finger lightly to the wound before drawing back with a trembling hand the covers from his first born.

He noticed the boy was wearing one of his t-shirts, swimming in it in fact, and as he pulled it up, he also noticed Dean was gently covered by a pair of his boxers too, _oh man..._ he rolled his head and bit his lip raising the t-shirt carefully up, branding his vision with evidence of harm done to his flesh and blood.

--

"Keep writing," he snarled as she stopped for a moment to shake the cramp out of her hand, "Keep it neat..." he ordered double checking the four sheets of paper in front of him, each one filled front and back with the following, "Forgive me father for I have sinned, I have betrayed trust and harmed the innocent. I do not deserve to be forgiven."

The instant he crept into her house his hackles had stood on end. The walls were covered with class photos filled with faces that for the plastic smiles stretching their mouths looked more like they wanted to cry. Years worth of emotionless eyes staring at him, all the spirits she'd managed to break through the decades while still being lauded as the teacher with the most well behaved class, year after year after year, and not a single authority had thought to question how or why.

His research had turned up a few early complaints which always seemed to be easily explained by the child recanting their story and proclaiming irresponsibility on their own part.

John could have kicked himself. He should have recognized the signs, he should have known, he just couldn't understand why his son didn't come to him and he doubted his right to be their father. _Have I made it so hard for him to come to me? I thought after last year, after all that with Sam... I was _sure_ he knew he could come to me with ANYTHING! He's got to know they're the most important things in my life! _

"Now I see where that boy gets his ill behavior and his horrible manners!" she spat noticing that her captor had gone somewhere inside his own head, "...poor stock, I knew it."

John cocked his head to the side, "Lady? And believe me I'm using the term loosely here..." he stipulated much to her surprise, "Are you STUPID?" he asked pointing her own gun at her, "Get t'writin' you fugly bitch," he frowned.

When she finished the current sheet he rose and stood behind her, two gloved fingers pressing into just the right spots under her chin held her immobile and gagging slightly as his other hand, also gloved, forced her fingers to wrap around the grip of her pistol.

"What do you think you're doing you sad pathetic excuse for a human being! People like you never understand! I am building a better world generation by generation! Child by child! Children need a stern hand! They need discipline! They cannot be allowed to run amok... Without someone like me your children would grow into a world of chaos! They will suffer...your children will..."

A blast thundered through the otherwise empty house and John let go, stepping back to let the body fall as it would.

"You first bitch," he spat making sure to lock the door after letting himself out into the night.

--

"Before I forget, I'll need Dean's homework for the weekend, he wasn't feeling well this morning so I left him over at Miss Andrea's for the day," John smiled awkwardly as he lowered himself into the seat across from Principal Lawrence.

"I'll have one of his classmates drop it over there on the way home from school..." the thin wisp-ish looking man nodded, "Mr. Webster I'm afraid there's been a terrible happening here that involves your son... and I assure that had anyone had any idea what was going on..." he shook his head.

John shook his head playing this the way he'd rehearsed it all night, "What do you mean? I thought this was about getting Dean a tutor or something..."

The only thing that wasn't rehearsed by the time the principal finished explaining everything to John; then handed over the photos of his little boy standing in his blood soaked underwear, his body marred, welted, bruised and bloodied; was the horrified father's waxy pallor.

"I'm afraid there's more though... I'm afraid we won't be able to press charges..." Mr. Lawrence explained lastly.

"Why the hell not! That bitch deserves to rot in hell! Who the FUCK touches a child like that!" he screamed, his cracked voice carrying through the thick wooden door loudly enough to bring a blush to the cheeks of the secretarial staff.

"Authorities found Miss McKetridge in her home this morning... it seems she couldn't live with what she'd done..."

"What?!" John gasped flopping back into the chair, his exhaustion genuine.

--

John felt his heart pick up the pace once he heard Dean's key slide into the apartment door, _just be cool John, so far so good... let's just get them out of here..._ he told himself yet again.

_Funny it was easier to be cool in a room full of cops than it's gonna be in front of my own kids..._ he thought remembering this morning when the local Sheriff had asked him to come down to the station as a formality. He was also pretty sure the only reason they'd let him go was because he'd played his part so convincingly on Friday. Something he never would have been able to do without Miss Andrea's collusion.

"Dad!" Sam squealed running across the living room and into John's arms as he stooped to scoop him up and kiss his head, "You're here!"

"Heya kiddo," he grinned moving toward his eldest, unable to keep the mist from his eyes.

"Hey dad," he watched his firstborn smile wearily, though he did notice that some of the weight he hadn't even seen creeping onto the boys' shoulders, was now gone.

_Never touch my children! _he nodded to himself, _I think it's time to start teaching them a little hand to hand. Bobby's place'll be perfect._

"Hey Dean...wow what happened here?" he asked putting his squirming Sammy down while his finger reached out and gently touched his boys' forehead.

Dean smirked, "Just a stupid accident."

"He tripped getting out of the tub last week," Sam shot over his shoulder while looking around at the few boxes on the kitchen table that were packed with non perishables. "We're leaving?" Sam asked with an unmistakable sadness in his voice.

"Yeah, we're heading out west, toward Uncle Bobby's... might even stop and see him along the way," he smiled while his hand lingered on his big boys' head, "Hey?" he asked crouching before his son, "You okay kiddo?"

Wordless, the boy's eyes flicked to his little brother, who John noticed opened his mouth as if to say something then quickly shut it again with a look from his brother.

"Something I should know about?" John asked looking between his boys.

Dean shook his head, raised up half his mouth and pulled away from his father, "I'll go get us packed..."

John watched him move stiltedly toward the bedroom and knew he was still hurting. Those rips in his skin were going to take some time to heal and considering the depths of those bruises he'd seen in the photos, it was likely that many of them went all the way down into the bone, _Damn that bitch straight to hell!_ "Already done Dean," he tried to make his voice sound light, "I got home early, and believe it or not, for once we're not in a hurry."

Dean turned at the bedroom door, noticing a pair of pajamas laid out on each of their beds, and their suitcases packed, standing one at the foot of each bed. His brows furrowed, "We're staying another night?" he asked.

"Might as well, it's a little late to be getting on the road," John nodded drawing close to his son again, "You look tired boy, is everything okay?" he asked.

The eldest nodded, watching his little brother grab a pudding snack out of one of the boxes and with his eyes downcast, turn on the TV and sit cross legged on the floor, his eyes dancing between the TV and his big brother.

"Haven't slept too good the last couple nights," he nodded, "So I'm a little tired."

John nodded, "Why don't you go take a nap..." he held up his hand preemptively, "I know I know you're not a little kid anymore, but hear me out. Why don't you go lay down, take a nap then when you get up we'll get some Chinese takeout, maybe even go rent a movie or something... we'll make a real guys night of it what'd you think?" he suggested.

Sam's head snapped up and his bright eyes bounced back and forth between John and Dean, "Can we? Can I stay up too? I'll go take a nap too if I can stay up and have a guys night out... can we? C'Mon Dean? Please?" he asked.

With a strange smile tilting his mouth Dean nodded, "Sounds great," he reached into the bedroom and grabbed his t-shirt and sweats from the bed, "Anyone need to get in? I'm gonna take a bath first."

Once the water was running John looked at his littlest one, torn between wanting him to spill the beans to him, and wanting him to honor the oath he made to his big brother.

"So Sammy... did you find out what was bugging your brother?" he asked trying to keep his voice casual while watching his youngest carefully.

"Yeah," he sighed stuffing a finger full of pudding into his mouth.

"And?" John prodded.

"Somebody was pickin' on him, but they went away and we're going away just like Dean said we would so it's okay now," he shrugged pointing to the TV, "Bumblebee! I love bumblebee! Except for the real ones cause they sting, but this one's a autobot! That's a good guy," he explained turning his attention fully to the television set and effectively ending the conversation.

With a sniff of pride in his boy, and a sad smile for himself, John returned to the kitchen to finish packing their dry goods.

--

Two Weeks Later:

"Why are you doing this?" he asked looking up from the bottom of the grave.

"I come from a long line of Allegheny Seer's John, but you already figured it was something like that didn't you?" she asked handing down a pouch full of herbs that he opened and sprinkled onto Elise McKetridge's rotting corpse.

"Something like that," he admitted accepting her hand as he climbed out of the hole.

"There are some things I see better than most, some things I don't see as well," she smiled softly, "I have a need to make sure the job is done right... I won't be party to something angry rising and hurting folks if I can help it, and we both know as evil as she was in life... Lord help anyone who gets in her way after death if we don't do our job right," she smiled pouring salt from the canister over the corpse while John soaked it with lighter fluid. "How's Dean doing? He's healing alright?"

John struck the matches and dropped them into the grave, feeling something closing in his chest as he nodded smiling proudly, "He actually played with Sammy at the park the other day instead of just sitting on the swings. And the night before last..." he breathed shakily, "He laughed," he turned looking into the womans' eyes, his own hazed with water, "I didn't realize it'd been so long since I heard that sound... and I've missed it," he nodded.

She wrapped her hands around his upper arm, "Hold tight to it every chance you get John, there's rough roads ahead for folks like us... it's in the distance for now, but mark my words...dark times are coming."

--

end.

Please R&R.

Thanks.

sifi.


End file.
